


Do you believe life is a Lucid Dream?

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Series: Kinktober 2020 [6]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence loses his virginity while watching Nightmare on Elm Street, First Time, Floor Sex, Fluff and Smut, Kinktober, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mirror Sex, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Topping from the Bottom, and he is super weak for Credence, because he's just hardcore like that, gentle Dom Credence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26867941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: They were drawn to each other immediately, but waited two years to start a relationship. Six weeks in, and Credence is tired of waiting...and Graves is more than ready to give him what he wants.Or, Graves and Credence's first time as mentioned in "Ghostly Presents."DAY 6 of KinktoberWritten for the prompts:Cunnilingus|Lactation| Dominance/Submission | Mirrors
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Series: Kinktober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950283
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Do you believe life is a Lucid Dream?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iPumperdiddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPumperdiddle/gifts).



> My first-ever gift fic, for iPumperdiddle -- I believe your exact words were "vulnerable Graves is the best," no? Well. Here you go: vulnerable Graves with a nice side of take-charge Credence. ;)
> 
> The title is from Owl City's "Lucid Dream," because it just works (I'm sorry, I'm a smartass lol).

As the credits of _Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors_ roll, I turn to my boyfriend of exactly six weeks and ask, “So what did you th—”

I don’t get the question out before he snatches the remote, throws it away, and crawls into my lap. I barely have time to suck in a breath, and then his mouth is crushing mine and his hands are in my hair, and _fuck_ this is not where I expected today to go but if this is what he wants, well, I’m not going to stop him.

I push my hands under the hem of his shirt and feel the burning heat of his skin. Credence tends to run hot and right now, I feel like I’m holding fire in my arms. He kisses me like he’s on death row and I’m his last meal and there is nothing soft or careful about it, all teeth and tongue and bruising pressure, and I love it, I want it, I kiss back with everything I have.

He shoves me onto my back and rips open my shirt, buttons scattering across the floor and behind the couch, and I would ordinarily protest because it’s a pain in the ass to sew buttons back onto a shirt but oh my God I can’t even think straight right now, because it is _so fucking hot_ watching him take control like this.

Credence grew up in a church that he now rightfully refers to as a cult. He was raised to believe that not only is sex bad, but having a crush at all shows a lack of faith. “Guarding your heart,” they called it. “Saving yourself,” they called it. “Letting God write your love story.” The people in his “faith,” if you want to call it that, were married off in “courtships” heavily supervised by their families. Even premarital _kissing_ was considered a sin.

The upshot of it all is that Credence was trained from a young age to not allow himself to love or touch or want anyone, for fear of “flouting the wishes of the Lord.” For him to boldly reach out and take something he wants is nothing short of a miracle. How much therapy it’s taken for him to get here, how much careful encouragement, how many reminders that he is allowed to want, to need, to have feelings of his own…

“Credence,” I gasp as he leans down over me and licks a hot, wet stripe up my throat. “Jesus, sweetheart. What’s gotten into you?”

“Want you,” he murmurs into my neck, nuzzling the base of my throat. “You’re hot and you make me happy and I want to make you mine.”

Well, fuck. If there’s a better way to get a man to do what you want, I’ve never heard of it. He’s grinding down against me ruthlessly, slender hips rocking into me with purpose and making me feel lightheaded, and yes, God yes, I’m so turned on it almost hurts. But more than that he is reaching out to me, he is taking what he wants without shame and he _deserves_ that.

“Can I—I mean, do you mind—” He runs his fingertips down the midline of my chest, watching with a kind of rapt fascination that makes my heart race as the muscles of my stomach contract under his touch. His eyes snap back up to mine. “Is it okay that I’m—on you, like this?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am _really_ getting off on seeing you take charge,” I tell him bluntly, and he absolutely glows and leans down to kiss me again, this time thrusting his tongue into my mouth with abandon.

We make out like we’ll never get the chance again, hands pulling at clothes and carding through hair and exploring each other until we’re both panting for it. He makes short work of my pants and his own clothes, and the sight of him sitting on me, leaning over me, staring at me through intense eyes with not a single trace of self-consciousness over his scars, is enough to make me weak for him.

“Tell me,” he whispers between deep, probing kisses, “what you like. I’ve never done this before. You’ll have to tell me.”

I know what I like. I know that I like to be handled roughly, to be pushed to the limits, walk that oh-so-fragile line between pain and pleasure. But will that scare him, I wonder?

“Bite me,” I say, and then gasp in pleasure when he does exactly that, teeth sinking deep into my lower lip. _“Oh_ —like that. And—pull my hair. Scratch me, hold me down.”

“You want that? Really?” But there’s no real shock in his voice, just a kind of vague concern. “I don’t know if I can hurt you…”

“It’s not about the pain, baby. It’s— _ahhh_ —” (his nails rake slowly up my side and I can’t help but arch into his touch) “—it’s about letting go. Feeling helpless. I’m not, we both know it, but—”

“But you want to feel it,” he finishes. “Want the rush of it. God, yeah. I know.” He grinds down hard against me, nails digging into my hip, and I moan again. The sound seems to fuel his own need, and he gently tugs my earlobe with his teeth before he whispers, “I like it. It’s you, and you’re so strong, but we’re here now and I—I’m the one who gets to see you _fall.”_

He knows, oh God, he _understands_ and it makes every part of me _sing._ “Please,” I gasp as he rocks down against me again, and he takes both my wrists and pins them over my head, leaving me deliciously exposed to him. “Please, sweetheart. Take what you want. It’s all yours.”

 _I’m yours,_ I finish in my head. His hand comes up and delicately cups the base of my throat, more of a caress than a squeeze. And then his nails stroke the side of my neck, and my eyes roll up. I know, God, _I know_ that I will not deny him anything. He’s the virgin, yes, but tonight, I’m the sacrifice.

I hate blood. Can’t stand the sight, the smell of it. I have to close my eyes and put in headphones and pretend I’m somewhere else even when I get my own blood drawn at the doctor’s. But for him, God, I would happily bleed.

Feeling Credence on top of me is magical. It’s arousing, yes, but—more than that, there’s something inherently soothing about his weight on top of me, his warm hands splayed out over my skin, his long hair falling loose and brushing my skin when he leans down to press kisses down my neck and my chest. His mouth closes around a nipple and I all but scream. “You like that,” he observes, and does it again. I twist helplessly under him, unable to contain my noises of pleasure when he goes from licking to biting.

His mouth eventually finds the inside of my thigh, biting and sucking and raising tender bruises on my skin. I want, oh God, I want. “Please, baby, I can’t— _ah! Credence!”_

He takes me into his mouth without warning, at first just suckling at the tip, but soon he’s sucking me halfway down as his nails dig into my thighs. I writhe like I’m being tased, and oh, God, maybe I _am;_ the pleasure jolts through me like electricity, lighting me up as it sears through my veins.

Some part of my mind shuts off, the world zeroing in on just the two of us. The credits have finished and the DVD menu is playing in a loop on the TV, but neither of us goes for the remote. Instead, with the score of _Dream Warriors_ in the background, Credence rolls us off the couch and onto the floor, kissing the gasp of surprise right out of my mouth, and gently cradles my head in his hands as he rocks his slim hips against mine. “So hot,” he breathes against my lips. “God, I just want to wreck you.”

“I want you to,” I tell him, and surrender with a groan as he takes my hands and pins them over my head once again.

“Hold on,” he orders, and I grab the first thing I can, the leg of the coffee table behind me. He takes a handful of my hair and tugs, gently first and then harder, smiling in satisfaction when he sees the way it makes me squirm. He rakes both hands down my chest, nails dragging patterns into my skin. “Feel good?” he says softly, now stroking my belly with his fingertips and making me twitch. “I want you to feel good. I want—” He leans over me again, eyes dark and hungry. “I want more. I want _you.”_

“Oh God,” I groan, squirming desperately underneath him. “Then have me, love. I'm all yours.”

“Do you have—stuff?”

It takes me a second to realize what he’s asking for, but— “Oh. Bathroom. Third drawer.”

It’s only when Credence stands and runs off to go get “the stuff” that I realize that, from this angle, where we’re laying, I can see our reflection in the mirrored back of my entertainment stand. For a moment I freeze, because the image of myself that I see reflected there is so unlike me it’s jarring. My carefully-cultivated image of control is shattered. Seeing myself lying there all splayed out, naked and vulnerable, hair in total disarray and eyes blown black with lust, is intense.

Credence comes back a moment later and sees me, transfixed by my own image, and lets out a low, seductive laugh that I couldn’t have imagined coming from him. “Oh. Wow. You know…we can work with that.” He straddles me and runs both hands down my chest again, pausing here and there to give me a little scratch. When I try to look at him he reaches out and catches my chin, tipping my head back so I can see us in the mirrored tiles again. “Watch,” he orders.

Oh, I’m not at all sure if I can keep this up. “Credence, I don’t—it’s so—”

“I know.” He grinds slowly down against me, and my entire body tenses under him but I manage to keep my eyes open. Seeing how good he looks straddling me is…more than a little intoxicating. “Watch,” he repeats, and I keep my head tilted back, watching with shock and awe in the mirror, as he slicks his fingers up and reaches back to open himself up. “I’ve done this alone so many times,” he tells me with a shameless grin. “Used to think it was wrong. But I think…the way you’re looking at me right now says otherwise.”

Thanks to the mirror tile I can see exactly what he’s talking about: I look like I’ve been clubbed over the head. I assumed, when he said _I want to wreck you,_ that he’d want to fuck me, which I would’ve been totally all right with. But if he wants it this way—well, I’m not going to complain. “Fuck,” I breathe. “Christ, sweetheart. You look…incredible.”

“I feel incredible. You _make_ me feel incredible. Now, keep those hands right where they are. I want to see if I can come on your dick.”

Said dick twitches, my hips jerking involuntarily. “Credence! Fuck, warn a man, would you?”

“Ooh…I don’t think I will, no.” Credence must add another finger, because his face changes, features going slack with pleasure as he thrusts in and out. “Mmm. This feels good. Bet it’ll feel even better when it’s you.”

“Holy shit,” I manage to croak out. “You sure this is your first time?”

He just laughs. “I haven’t done this before, Percy. I’ve just thought about it, a lot, and I know what I want.” He withdraws his fingers and reaches for a condom. Watching him rip it open with his teeth, then delicately roll it on with those long fingers, just about undoes me and all I can think is _yes, God yes, this was so worth the wait._

It took us two years to get here, and I know deep in my heart that if I’d made a move the first night I saw him, our first time would not have gone like this. He would have been so scared, not at all the beautiful, confident creature sitting astride me like he belongs there. I could never have been with him like this back then, it would’ve been taking advantage…but this is good, this is _right._

He sinks down onto me slowly, easily, and the sensation of his tight, warm body enveloping mine feels so incredible. I turn my head automatically, hypnotized by the sight of my length disappearing into his slick heat, and to my shock he reaches down and slaps my hip with the flat of his hand. I gasp sharply and he reaches up, cups my chin and forces my head back. “Watch,” he orders, and I let out a whimpery noise that would make Seraphina laugh herself sick if she ever heard it come from me.

“Credence,” I breathe, my heart pounding as he begins to slowly rock up and down, taking me a little deeper each time. “Credence, sweetheart, I…I can’t…”

“You can. _Watch._ I want you to see…you’re so hot right now I could _cry…”_

I look… _wrecked._ My eyes are wild and there’s a flush on my skin that goes all the way down my shoulders. Every muscle in my arms is tight, fingers white-knuckled on the leg of the coffee table. But Credence. Oh _God,_ Credence. He’s gaining speed now, finding a rhythm, no longer just testing the waters but openly taking what he wants from me, and it’s…breathtaking. Absolutely, truly breathtaking.

“So hot,” he moans as he moves faster, bouncing himself up and down on my cock like it’s his fucking _job._ “God, you feel so good, I could do this forever…so good, Percy, _fuck_ it’s so good…”

I don’t know if this could get any more intense and honestly, I’m not sure I want to know. He’s _bouncing_ , his hips rocking back and forth, head tipped back and his eyes fluttering and rolling in pleasure. His hands are all over me, scratching down my chest one minute and gripping my waist so hard it bruises the next, and the combination of pleasure and pain pushes me closer to the edge.

I can see it on my face when I get close. I’ve never seen myself come before, but I have the feeling I’m about to. “Credence,” I gasp, writhing helplessly underneath him. “Sweetheart, I’m—I’m close—”

“Me too,” he breathes, and moves faster. “Hold on for me, Percy, let me—please let me—I want to come on your cock, _just_ like this—”

I hold my breath, try to stay still, but oh God this feels so good. “Credence—oh God, baby, I can’t—”

He pinches my nipple and, involuntarily, my hips snap up and apparently this is just what he needs, because he lets out a guttural cry and grinds down on me _hard,_ and then he reaches down with both hands and pinches both nipples and I can’t help but thrust up into him again and—oh—oh God, that’s it, I’m _gone_ and so is he, my back bows and I all but scream as my vision whites out.

He repeats my name like a prayer as he comes, grinding down hard and getting as much last-minute stimulation as he can. “That’s it,” I breathe as I slump back to the ground, every limb trembling. “Oh, God. I think you just killed me. In the best way possible.”

He laughs weakly as he slides off and neatly tucks himself beside me, grabbing haphazardly for the nearest throw blanket and tossing it over both of us. I shiver a little and pull him in tighter. I feel—shaky. Not sure why. But Credence notices and wraps his other arm securely around my waist, pressing himself close so I can feel every inch of his warm skin against mine. “I’m here,” he murmurs, tucking his head up under my chin. “I’m here. You’re okay. That was fantastic…”

We lie there together, sweat cooling on our bodies as the _Dream Warriors_ soundtrack plays on. I laugh a little at the realization that Credence just lost his virginity to the soundtrack of a Freddy Kruger film and, yeah, of course if anyone would it would be him.

“You know,” I say, because even now I can’t help but be a smartass, “If I’d known watching Nightmare on Elm Street was what got you in the mood, I would’ve shown it to you two years ago...”


End file.
